Nice little story. Alliterative too. The bickering Bulls. Turning on each other in time of crisis. One loss and they are gnawing each other off at the femur.
NBC said so. There. Read Michael’s lips. What did he just call Pippen? Look at Jackson get in Rodman’s face. Brave man, Jackson, because he can’t know where that face has been.
Wasn’t it in all the late editions? Pippen blames Kerr. Jordan blames Longley. Everyone blames Kukoc.
Shhhh. Hold it down in here. I can’t hear if Pippen is telling Jordan off or asking for a recipe.
Lose a basketball game and every guess is gospel.
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Certainly, by now, someone must have told the Bulls that for the first time since the first championship run they are behind in an NBA Finals.
There must be some kind of Loser’s Guide to Trailing in the Playoffs, some late-night reading to help put the proper, sour face on things.
How dare Phil Jackson appear so insufficiently doleful the morning after. Out in the stark and unfamiliar harshness of Loserland, the least Jackson could do is not be so, well, so chipper.
“A beautiful day,” Jackson says.
He compliments the local rainy weather, shrugs off Dennis Rodman’s mischief du moment, promises to get the Bulls back to basics and, in general, acts as if nothing at all is amiss amid his cranky quibblers.
What kind of photo op/news briefing is this, anyhow? How dare he have a good night’s sleep, a full breakfast and obvious optimism.
Suddenly, Jackson turns to the pile of photographers.
“You keep trying to take my picture in funny positions,” he says “Here. Let me help.”
Jackson frowns. He furrows his brow. He hides his face in his hands. That is the picture. That is what a losing coach is supposed to look like. Pained. Distraught.
Click. Click.
Scottie Pippen, standing behind the curtain of the dais, answers a question asked of Jackson about the judgment of Scottie Pippen on the last shot of the opening game loss.
Was Pippen pushing it too much to try that shot?
“No,” says the unseen Pippen.
Jackson laughs. The press laughs. A serious question gets a frivolous answer. Hey, this is the day you call for Chicken Little. What do you get? Chicken Delight.
“I liked the moxie Scottie showed,” Jackson says.
Who among us can criticize moxie? Who would know moxie if we shared a taxi?
But here is what we do know. If the Bulls have lost a game, something has to be terribly wrong. A good instinct is to blame Rodman, which Jackson more or less does, suggesting Rodman might have taken two or three charges during the game.
“That’s out of character for Dennis,” Jackson says. “But what is in character for Dennis?”
If Jackson doesn’t know, he won’t get any answers here. Jackson has resolved all Rodman behavioral issues long ago. The two of them seem to know each other’s edges. The nearer the end comes, the greater the effort for either to change.
Rodman did his little rebellion number, had to be summoned to enter the game, went off to Las Vegas after the game, got back on time for Thursday’s practice.
Tolerance of Rodman has not been fatal yet. It is a little late in the dance to demand he start stepping to music he never will hear.
Well, then, let’s get to it. What about all the bickering among the Bulls? The press is full of bicker talk. Happy teams. Confident teams do not bicker.
“I read about that,” Michael Jordan says, “how I was supposed to have screamed at Scottie Pippen. I don’t have a reason to scream at Scottie Pippen. We’re on the same wavelength.
“Because of the loudness of the arena I might have been yelling to get my point across but it wasn’t anything derogatory.”
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“To communicate, you have to yell at each other,” Pippen says. “Whatever was yelled, it was positive.”
No bickering. Not in the huddles. Not on the floor. The big story between games is shot down because of poor acoustics.
“You ought to hear in our huddles,” Utah coach Jerry Sloan says.
No thanks. I’ve heard enough for one day.